


Windblades of change

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Sentimental, Sparring, Surprise Kissing, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24357115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: Megatron had been stuck in this arena for primus knows how long. When a little city speaker chooses to challenge him, he realizes hes faced against quite the opponent.
Relationships: Megatron/Windblade (Transformers)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Windblades of change

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @baebeyza who pretty much made this ship. Hope you like it!

"So, this is your new heaven, eh?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

Megatron gave a soft sigh as he sipped his tea. Ever since his exile to this crumbling, ancient planet, Megatron had grown used to the simple pleasures. The familiarity of the arena, the stillness of space, a nice, warm cup of energon lit by a handmade fire, and-

"Just fighting whoever chooses to face themselves against you?"

"It's no worse than retirement, when you sit there and think about it. Good exercise, I'm never truly alone, I have enough energon to live on, this is a simplistic, perfect life for me."

The little fem next to him nodded. Windblade had appeared here quite some time ago (time didn't really have much presence on this planet, so he couldn't pinpoint just how long she was truly here for), and surprisingly, was more interested in learning about him, rather than some autobot vengeance against his old sins. Windblade gave a light shrug, sipping at her own tea that her host brewed just for her.

"I mean, I don't exactly take beating another bot to a pulp as 'socializing'"

"Oh you'd be surprised, little bird. We've been talking for...some allotted amount of time,"

He shrugged, noticing her look of uncertainty. He supposed this could look unhealthy to the outside optic.

"But DESPITE how much we've been talking, I could gain much more information from you during a simple fight. A battle can speak volumes in mere moments, the likes of which conversation cannot compare."

Windblade nodded at his words, watching him take a sip. She had initially showed up to this planet for the reason many had; curiosity, and fury. She planned to destroy the mech that caused so much damage and agony, only...she couldn't. The mech before her had optics of kindness, of patience. He wasn't full of grandeur and vanity. He was humbled, at peace. Even his scratched insignia and dinged up frame radiated friendliness, compared to the Megatron she had seen on screens; bold, neat, malicious. Not that she had spent so much time noticing it. 

Megatron fared no better in his adoration. He had known this fem for what felt like such a short time, and yet, he was enamored with her. He saw a fem wise beyond her years, heard quick quips from her red lips, boldness beyond those optics. He hadn't been so fascinated in a bot since his days of Orion Pax. He longer felt shame in admitting his past failures. Can't very well move with weights on your pedes. They had a small silence as they both had a moment to self monologue, before Windblade raised a brow.

"Wait a second. Did you just say you want to fight me?"

"I've never turned away from a battle. Though if you wish to just sit here and drink tea till time stops, I'd be happy to. Provided my schedule allows it. Not sure, I'm quite busy as of late."

He gestured to the empty arena before them, and she chuckled.

"Smart aft. And I'm just saying, it'd be an honor on my part."

"Honor fighting an old bastard who was responsible for the deaths of millions?"

"An honor fighting the previous Megatronus. One who coined the term, 'form does not dictate function', and inspired MANY. The whole killing stuff? Was honestly just overboard if anything."

"Ah yes, just a LITTLE overboard, completely."

They both shared a chuckle (though Megatron's was a bit more forced than hers) before Megatron polished off the rest of his drink, setting his cup down.

"You know, when you say 'cityspeaker', you expect someone poised, composed. You're more or less just an annoying little bird, aren't you?"

To that, she stood up, and lightly smacked his helm as she walked towards the open arena.

"Alright, I got the hint, bucket head, let's go."

"Me? Hinting? Never."

Megatron MAY have egged her on. Maybe. He usually just let things be, and awaited any challengers to come towards him, but he was quite curious about this particular fem. A cityspeaker, initially out for his energon, now seemed to be interested in him as a mech, rather than an opponent. He stood up, casually walking to the center of the arena, before slowly drawing his sword from his back, lightly spinning it in his hand. He lived here for the prime purpose of fighting nowadays, yet the feel of the blade in his hands STILL felt foreign to him, as if this were his first battle. 

"You know, you aren't as you appear. Not that I'd fight you as if appearances were all to it."

"How you figure, old mech?"

"Well, you seemed to be almost docile at first glance. Think it's the face. Makeup usually doesn't scream intimidating."

She then withdrew her blade, and he swore his spark thumped in his chest. Megatron always had some attraction to the sound, the very sight of a drawn blade. He drew closer, slowly, trying not to let his energon boil. Passive as he was, his body had some urge to throw himself at any sign of a weapon. Programmed in him, he supposed. He chuckled, mainly as a means of getting rid of his extra energy suddenly roaring into his frame.

"And yet, once you take a real, good look, you see you aren't very delicate at all. And I admire an opponent that can surprise me."

He was surprised when he suddenly had to bring his blade up in defense, Windblade being the first to strike. Blade against blade, and optics against optics, Megatron was enamored. He pulled his weight back, as if giving her the advantage, before pushing all of his weight forward, knocking her right onto her aft. He took a few steps forward, blade gently grazing against the dirt below (even after all this time, he still had quite a flair for the dramatic) as he honed onto his target. He even spoke as if he had an audience observing them.

"Yet you aren't...formidable. Your frame itself is thin, easy to push back."

Megatron was about to bring his blade down upon her (he'd never actually deal a blow that'd end her. This was sparring, not a war), before she suddenly brought her heel against his wrist, knocking the blade out of his hand, and into the dirt, blade first, just out of reach. She brought her blade up towards him, but didn't go for the kill, just leaving it within his personal space. 

"And you LOVE talking don't you, tin can?"

"It's a bad habit, I'll admit. But you know what's worse than being loquacious?"

She raised a brow, before he smirked, and swung his leg, knocking her down again. While she was down, he reached behind him for his sword, and motioned for her to get up. She gave him a spotting chance, it was a gladiatorial right that he gave her the exact same. 

"Being lenient."

Her lips curled into a rather impressive snarl as she forced herself back up, and he hated to admit it, but he had a real infatuation towards her. Passion, intelligence, all wrapped up in the classic bow of autobot mercy. She pointed her blade at him again, and he returned the gesture, both at a standstill as they tried to determine where to move, where to hit, and what to say. Windblade was the one who ended up deciding first.

"Alright, Silverback. How about I give you MY impression of you?"

"Why, I'd be delighted. Usually when bots express their opinions on me, it's not so kind. Or it's TOO kind. Go on, little bird."

She came at him again, and their blades clashed, sparks flying as one parried, with the other returned the favor. She couldn't help but admire how swiftly he moved, how ready he was to be on the defense. She dodged a blow from him, softly chuckling to herself. 

"You're a true warrior. A bit misguided in your pursuits, but wise. Wise, intelligent, a bit snarky, and honestly? Far more tolerable than I thought you'd be."

He didn't respond to the sudden and rather honest praise, choosing instead to retreat and allow her to keep slashing at him, blocking at every strike. Smart fem as she was, no one was immune to overconfidence, especially in getting Megatron into a corner. Or at least, that's what he let them think.

"I also don't think you can take a well deserved compliment."

That was when he became distracted. Something about her authentic praise really...shook him. It wasn't cruelty towards him, it wasn't adoration of what bots THOUGHT he was, but towards HIM. Turns out this opponent could actually trap him in a corner. Small as she was, she was a force to be reckoned with. She parried yet again, about to get a solid hit, before he sidestepped, a bit sloppily for his own self criticism. 

"Well, I'm not used to it. Especially from a voice like yours."

"Now what does THAT mean?"

Her brows furrowed, and her lips pursed. He had apparently angered this little fledgling, giving off...some implications he certainly didn't mean. She suddenly dived for some spot right under his chest (to this day he doesn't know where she was aiming for. Maybe she was aiming for his lower insides. Or primus forbid, what's between his legs. He didn't want to call her sleazy during a fight, but with how angry she looked, he honestly wouldn't be too surprised that she’d stoop so low), and he was barely able to dodge, this time kicking up quite a bit of dirt in the process. Not his most graceful battle, but then again, he hadn't had a battle where he was so distracted, and surprisingly, a bit in fear. He had to block himself from a surely hard blow, before pushing her back, forcing her a good distance away, making him just a little bit more comfortable.

“Nothing malicious, I assure you! I just meant that voice didn't suit you! Your voice sounds so commanding and almost furious, but your face is the opposite! I TRUST your face!”

Megatron hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in quite a long time, hadn’t had the opportunity to truly interact with someone, spark to spark. Perhaps that was why his statement was awkward, yet very clearly honest. She seemed to recognize that as well, as her face loosened, as if she was perplexed. They both dwelled in his comment, before the smirk returned to her face. She was planning something. He wasn't sure how she took his comment, and was honestly on edge. He was expecting a sort of verbal response, but he received none, instead, she gave him another attack to dodge, and once he was about to bring his weapon against her, she didn't move aside. She didn't block, didn't parry. Just as he was about to make contact, she merely turned, and went on the tips of her pedes, planting her lips right onto his. He had faced opponents with the power of ice, but none of them had the ability to freeze him quite like this.

No amount of reading, no studies of poetry, no texts from the ancients, could possibly help him describe how this felt. He had others lust for him in combat, but this was actual, sincere physical affection. Her lips were soft, yet somehow held enough force to hold him into place. The way her palm rested upon his chest so delicately, the way her sylphlike frame leaned against him in a way that somehow made her too heavy for him to push her away. He didn't offline his optics, merely staring at her. Her face was serene, her optics offline in such a way that made her look as if Primus crafted her by his own two hands. Even as her optics went online, even as the redness of her lips became slightly smeared, she was a vision. Not just in terms of beauty or grace, but of honesty. You’d be surprised how much honesty meant to the former king of deception. That was when she stiffened her frame, and slammed herself right onto him, knocking him right onto his back. Before he could get up and reach for his blade, he felt the heat of her weapon at the tip of his throat, the warmth and smoothness of her frame holding down his own.

“You talk too much, mega head.”

Megatron hadn’t lost a battle in this arena his entire life. And as the cityspeaker held the blade towards him, clearly restrained while simultaneously being unrelenting, he realized; he’d love to lose to her, till time became an enigma. 

What a deceitful, lovely little songbird.


End file.
